What Might Have Been
by cakelady
Summary: Short story featuring Caroline and Kate from Last Tango in Halifax. Usual disclaimers apply, the characters do not belong to me, I have borrowed them for a brief tale.


**Author's note: All the usual disclaimers apply, the characters do not belong to me, I have borrowed them to write a short story exploring an alternative plot. Thank you for reading.**

"Caroline."

A little louder, more insistent.

"_Caroline_."

Caroline turned her head to be faced with two steady – but inquiring – brown eyes. The eyes of Kate, her wife. Her unimpressed wife.

"Where were you? You were obviously miles away."

"Sorry, I –" Caroline sighed. Like many of her sentences, she didn't quite know how to end that one. "It's – " She shook her head. "I was thinking about work, mainly."

They both jumped as an almighty clatter filled the tea room. Less than six feet away from their table, a waitress had just dropped a tray full of cups and saucers, each of which, almost without exception, had shattered upon impact with the shiny, chequered floor tiles. A saucer or two rolled haphazardly away from the scene. Chairs scraped back amid offers of help from nearby customers, but the young woman insisted she was fine, and proceeded to pick up the white shards. The commotion faded from Caroline's ears as she attempted to resume her explanation.

"I'm sorry, Kate, I'm just snowed under these days," she continued. "We've got the independent schools inspectorate next week, and we're short staffed, and –"

"Well I _am_ on maternity leave-slash-sick leave. Do you think that's what _I_ wanted?" Kate interjected, her jaw clenched defensively.

"It's not you I'm talking about!" Caroline looked around furtively, aware that she had raised her voice in exasperation. No-one had noticed: the shattered crockery was still taking centre stage for everyone else in the tearoom. Nonetheless, she leaned towards Kate and dropped her voice. "You know that. Kate, you're overreacting to everything I say, you do realise that, don't you?"

"Yeah, whatever."

Caroline looked carefully at her wife, assessing her demeanour: she had lost weight and had dark shadows under her eyes, which were downcast much of the time. To say that Kate was not quite herself recently would be the understatement of the year. Kate's accident the day after their wedding had rocked their world. It was a miracle that she pulled through. However, instead of taking things easy and accepting offers of help, Kate was fiercely independent when it came to looking after Flora. That same streak in her character, that tunnel vision Caroline witnessed during their doomed hotel break when Kate was single-minded and determined to get pregnant had returned. When Caroline had ever-so-gently suggested one evening that Kate might be suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder or post-natal depression – or both, all hell had broken loose. In fact, she had been scared of Kate's behaviour. Scared that they were on the verge of breaking up, that Kate was going to 'dump her' again, just like at the hotel. God, was she that useless at being married? That useless at making Kate happy? Caroline had retreated to the spare room that night, and cried herself to sleep.

With a fraught atmosphere becoming the daily norm, she felt as though her confidence was ebbing out of her mind and body. At work, she sat slumped in her chair; struggled to keep her focus during long meetings; even her assured strut along the school corridors had diminished. Eagle-eyed Beverly had spotted that things were not the same since the arrival of baby McKenzie-Dawson. Caroline had tried her utmost to bat off subtle inquiries from her secretary, with the mantra that everything was "fine, I'm fine, Kate's fine, it's just – taking some getting used to, that's all." Beverly wasn't convinced. Caroline was good at a lot of things, but lying wasn't one of them.

Caroline looked across the afternoon tea table at Kate's empty plate. She had actually eaten that very tall, creamy, jammy slice of Victoria sponge cake that she had complained was too big. Every crumb. That was a good sign, surely. "How was your cake?" she ventured, forcing a kindly but nervous smile.

"It was okay, yeah, nice. Good. Quite sweet. The sponge was springy."

"Sounds good." Caroline reached for the teapot. "Would you like a top-up?"

"I helped myself about 10 seconds ago. Didn't you even see me?" Kate's eyes flashed with irrational anger.

"Right. Yes, of course." Caroline paused to swallow. "Kate. What's the matter, darling?"

Perhaps the sugary cake had perked her up slightly, but for whatever reason, Kate didn't withdraw at the question. "I – I don't know. I just feel – exhausted. All the time. I feel numb." Her eyes welled up and, for the first time in weeks, she held her wife's gaze.

Caroline reached across the table and placed her hand over Kate's. "You're tired. I can see it in your eyes, I can hear it in your voice. You're worn out." There was silence, so Caroline continued. "No wonder you're so tired, Kate, you've got a baby and that's very demanding at the best of times, never mind when you're in your forties and recovering from an accident –"

Too far. Kate pulled her hand away.

"Are you saying I'm not up to looking after my own child?"

"No! No, of course not, that's not what I'm saying and, deep down, you know that's not what I'm saying." Caroline was irked but determined not to let it show; now that Kate had actually strung some sentences together without flying off the handle, she didn't want to miss this opportunity of a conversation with her. She moved her head in an attempt to make eye contact again. Fortunately, it worked.

"I think you are amazing," she continued. "I am so, so proud of you, Kate. I love you; I admire your mind, your kindness, your poise, your fairness; I fancy you like mad; and I think you are a terrific mum. I really do. But – " her eyes searched the linen tablecloth for the right words. "I know, from experience, that being a mother, a new mother, is like nothing else on earth. It's wonderful. But it's relentless. It's difficult. It's terrifying. This brand new, tiny, human being is entirely dependent upon you for absolutely everything and you can't take your eye off the ball. You can't reason with her; you can't say oh, hang on Flora sweetheart, can you please just stop crying for half an hour so I can sleep? Can you please let me know if you're a) hungry, b) colicky, or c) tired? It doesn't work like that."

Kate remained silent but her gaze softened.

"You are not alone, Kate. I am your wife, your life partner and Flora's other mummy. I can help – I _want_ to help." She sighed, worried that her choice of wording could imply that Kate wasn't coping. "Help's not the right word… I mean, I want to be there. For both of you. We're a family." She attempted another tentative smile.

"I know, I knew, it would be a challenge, being a mum," Kate began. "They say it's life changing, and it is. But I am so afraid to let Flora out of my sight. I keep thinking about the accident, and what might have happened… she could have been left without me." Kate's eyes filled up again, and this time the tears started to trickle down her drawn features. "Caroline, when I was in hospital, lying there in agony, unable to sleep, I asked God every night to help me get better so I could look after Flora. I believe I was spared in that accident so I can raise my child."

"That doesn't mean you have to do it on your own," Caroline had reached out for her wife's hand again and was stroking it gently. "I know today was difficult, because I suggested bringing you out for some afternoon tea without the baby, but you know she'll be fine with my mum. That's one thing my mum can't resist, a baby. She's good with them. And she adores Flora, I know that for certain."

Kate said nothing, but smiled and nodded. She had to acknowledge that Celia was being much nicer to her now that Flora was here. Perhaps it was the baby's presence, or the fact Kate had almost died in the accident, but Celia most definitely had softened. She hadn't talked about this with Caroline, but then again she hadn't talked to Caroline about anything, full stop. They had got married, she was hit by joyriders the next day, missed out on a natural childbirth, spent weeks recovering – and now she had built an impenetrable wall around her and Flora.

"What are you thinking?" Caroline asked, sensing, hoping, that her wife's defences were finally crumbling. This is what she had been waiting for.

"I'm thinking," Kate said, "that I do need help, Caroline. I want to do everything for Flora, and be everything to her, but I probably can't give her my best if I feel like this all the time."

"OK, so…" Caroline thought carefully about what to say next: she didn't want to blow it. "What if you and I make our way home now, you can spend some time with Flora – we both can – and then my mum does the evening shift for us and we can spend some time together, just you and me?" She felt herself hold her breath as she waited for Kate's response. Had she pushed too far again?

"Would she? I mean, would Celia mind keeping Flora a little bit longer?"

"She'd love to. I know she would." In fact, it had been Caroline's plan all along, and she had checked and double-checked with her mum that morning to make sure it was suitable. Celia had been very understanding, which had surprised Caroline initially – until she discovered something about her mother that had escaped her since she was born.

"_It drains you, does post-natal depression. Sucks the life out of you." Celia had stared out of the kitchen window._

"_How do – why – " Caroline took a breath and started again, softly. "Did you have it after I was born, mum?"_

"_It felt like something inside me had died. I got over it but, well, when your dad started mucking around, I blamed myself. I thought maybe if I hadn't been so off with him back then, that he wouldn't have looked elsewhere."_

"_Oh, mum." Caroline saw a softness in her mother's face that she hadn't seen for years. Without even having to reach out, Celia pulled her into a hug._

"_So," Celia continued, "yes. I do know what it's like. I know how Kate must be feeling. And she's got the trauma from the accident to deal with on top."_

Like a sign from the heavens, at that moment the clouds shifted and the sun came streaming through the tearoom windows. Caroline looked at Kate bathed in sunlight, and was sure she had never seen her look so beautiful.

"So… shall we go home and let Granny Celia and baby Flora bond a little while we just relax together for a bit? Is that OK?"

Kate looked searchingly at Caroline, then simply said, "Yes."

It was the one word that Caroline had been longing to hear. She smiled at her wife, then walked around the table and offered an outstretched hand. Kate accepted and the two walked hand in hand to the car and headed for home. Together.


End file.
